On the 3 O'Clock News
by xxept0
Summary: Watching the news can be exhausting.


"_And in breaking news, a shocking sight has been spotted! A large man, who was reported to be eight feet tall, has been seen terrorizing the villagers. Some have mentioned that he was mumbling something about 'fighting', 'blood', and 'strawberries'. It seems that a young girl gas been held hostage under that man."_

Ichigo's eyes lazily schemed over the television screen; not that much was coming in. Blank thoughts. Just what he needed! Too many incidents have been happening, one after the other, and it was just a tad bit strenuous on him. Stress on tad.

He leaned back against the couch, holding a hand up on his face to cover his eyes, while the other reached out for the cookie plate, instinctively knowing where it was placed.

He took slow, deliberate chews, not with the usual Kurosaki gusto, but he didn't feel like upholding his image at that moment. He was alone at home anyway! At least…

Sensing somebody other than his immediate family members', Rukia's, Chad's, Ishida's, Inoue's, Renji's, or one of those shinigami who tend to pop up in his place for no particular reason's presence; for he has made many friends in his 'Rescue the World from Destruction' project; he took a leap back, ready to pop out of his body if need be.

He was prepared for anything! Hollow, Menos Grande, Vaizard, Arrancar; Hell, even Aizen would not surprise the temporary shinigami! Except the demure Fourth Division captain. Ichigo blinked for a moment, drinking in the sight he was not expecting.

What was the name of the captain again?

"Unoha-taichou?" he started, giving a wild stab in the dark.

"Unohana." she corrected gently. Ichigo, fortunately, had the grace to blush as he stammered an apology.

Strike one for his ego. He wished he could shrink back to a time when he was young so he could ask his Mother to "Kiss the pain away." It doesn't matter that it was usually implied to physical wounds. Not really.

"Er, Unohana-taichou… If you don't mind me asking, what the hell are you doing here?!"

"Hmm?" was her immediate reply. Ichigo felt his right eyebrow give a slight twitch when he realized she wasn't paying much attention to him. So much for etiquette!

"Have you seen Zaraki-taichou?" she asked, somehow managing to sound distracted, while looking polite, a feat that only she could pull off.

"Huh? Should I?" asked Ichigo, well and truly baffled. Unohana slowly shook her head to assure a negative, when her eyes fell on the television.

"_We have managed to approach the perpetrator! Sir, would you mind explaining **what** exactly were you doing?"_

The camera shifted to the right, capturing the image of a large man, with long, spiked up hair, which looked like flaccid icicles with little bells attached at the end, while wearing questionable leather gear. A young girl with pink hair was casually (happily??) perched on his shoulder, garbed in a rather cute French maid dress.

"_Tell Kurosaki to come out."_ The man growled to the camera. _"We need to fight again. I will beat him to the ground this time, for sure."_

"_I want to see Strawberry-head!"_ the girl with unusually bright pink hair piped in.

Unohana's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as a glint flickered to life in her eyes, if only for a second. That second however, was enough for Ichigo to shrink back, and although he would not admit it, he was slightly… Intimidated by the normally gentle healer.

The glint was replaced, as soon as it appeared, with the top of her black hair facing him; lower than he recalled it to be. Oh, she's bowing, he realized with a start.

"Thank you, Kurosaki-san."

"But I didn't do-" he wasn't allowed to finish his sentence before he was left alone in his house again.

His gaze fell on the screen, where he saw the face of a person whom he could have sworn was standing in front of him not two seconds ago. Somehow, he wasn't all that surprised, although he was in awe of her speed.

He turned around, still dazed, as the gentle woman, whose hair was braided to her front, ushered the big brute of a captain and his foster child away from that place. An impending headache was threatening to invade him, as he slumped back into his couch.


End file.
